"Bruised and Battered.."

I am.. Physically and mentally.
[in the metaphoric sense]

The B.. S.. (NOT of the boys' making, I want to make THAT crystal clear) that I've had to deal with since last night, combined with the shenanigans of Friday afternoon, have taken at least 5 years of my life (and will be adding more grey hairs then I care to admit...)

I am tired of the drama... so tired... My life, when a certain person decides to make an appearance, resembles an ultra melodramatic Soap Opera.

X 1,000.


It's like this:

[freely borrowed from Horton Hatches The Egg by Dr. Seuss]

"There rang out the noisiest ear-splitting squeaks

From the egg that she'd sat on for five hundred and twenty plus weeks!

A thumping! A bumping! A wild alive scratching!

"My egg!" shouted *Horton*. "My EGG! WHY, IT'S HATCHING!"

"But it's MINE!" screamed *the bird*, when he heard the egg crack.

(The work was all done. NOW he wanted it back.)

"It's MY egg!" he sputtered. "You stole it from me!

Get off of my nest and get out of my tree!"

Problem is, the work is FAR from done. The REAL work is just beginning....

And whenever *the bird* is confronted with a situation that drives that point home, "Mayzie* realizes:

"It's work! How I hate it!

I'd much rather play!

I'll take a vacation, fly off for a rest

And back to *Palm Beach* goes *Mayzie*,
leaving it up to *Horton* to clean up the mess, as after all:

"I meant what I said and I said what I meant.....

*Horton's* gonna stick with her kids and ride this roller coaster ride where ever it may take us

ONE HUNDRED PER CENT!!!!"